


shimmer

by pyrrhical



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dark Dipper Pines, Gen, Reverse Pines, dont pay too close attention to the chronology, lotso magic, this is not super serious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-06 17:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4230345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrrhical/pseuds/pyrrhical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>they've got it all, those pine twins. except for each other.  aka, the one where evil isn't hereditary, but dipper manages to find plenty of it anyway. (hiatus as of 11/18/2015)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. introduction

**Author's Note:**

> It's a lovely tent, you have to admit. And the boy and girl on stage, they're lovely, too. Their lovely voices say lovely things and their lovely hands perform lovely little miracles. It's all very lovely, you think to yourself, but there's something not so lovely hiding just below the surface. You have a nose for these sort of things, and the tent of telepathy reeks.

Gideon Gleeful was fourteen years old, visiting his uncle for the fourth summer in a row, and determined to pull back the curtains on the Twins of Telepathy this summer, even if it meant coming to every single show. This particular evening was Gideon's third time seeing the routine, and although the sheriff and deputy of Gravity Falls seemed as thoroughly entertained as the first, Gideon was starting to get a little bored.

    "This is the part of the show--"

    "where things start to get a little dangerous." Gideon whispered the rest of Mabel Pines' line to himself, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand. Although it was a little conspicuous as he sat in the front row, Gideon figured that coming to three consecutive performances was also a little conspicuous, and if the Pines hadn't approached him by now, letting a little of his boredom show through wouldn't make a difference.

    As Dipper Pines snapped his fingers, leaving a cloud of blue smoke behind but making his sister disappear, Gideon let his eyes wander up and around the stage, searching for any evidence that he had missed. The crowd laughed and shouted in delight when Mabel appeared in the audience, casually reclining next to a tourist, but Gideon merely rubbed sleepily at his eyes. Poring over the journal last night was as fruitless as attending this show. Gideon entertained the idea of sneaking out halfway through and ran a list of possible excuses through his mind. He could cough as he went, clutching at his throat...or pull out his cell and receive a call from the hospital about his father...

    "That won’t be necessary." An outstretched arm enveloped in blue flames waved at him, drawing Gideon's gaze to the ambivalent face of Dipper Pines.

     _Shit._ This was not part of the plan for the night. Besides the fact that he had just lost any anonymity and totally blown his already weak cover, Gideon had never seen either of the twins use elemental magic before. The majority of their previous ‘magic’ could be written off as the illusions of an experienced magician, but Gideon knew enough to recognize this as no parlor trick. Dipper, and possibly both Pines, had gotten into some serious lore.

An eerie smile beckoned to him from the stage, blue fire illuminating the younger twin’s high cheekbones and the slender bridge of his nose. “I think our next act will appeal to all of our audience,” Dipper whispered, his voice only audible to the crowd by the microphone pinned to his shirt collar, “but may hold a special attraction to those audience members who visit us quite...regularly.”

Dipper snapped his fingers, simultaneously wiping the eerie smile away and summoning his twin sister to his side. Mabel Pines grinned wickedly, leaning down and offering a hand to Gideon, who felt as if he was being compelled onto the stage. He grasped Mabel’s hand, and her toned arm, along with a little magic, pulled the less than Gleeful boy onto stage. He stumbled, the toe of his faded white sneaker catching on the edge of the stage. Mabel snickered beside him, but a perfectly manicured hand shielded her mocking lips from the audience.

Gideon shot her a glare, but Mabel stepped around and in front of him, gesturing grandly to the audience and beginning an explanation of her next act. “Ladies and gentleman, I’d like to thank you one last time for joining us this evening. This next trick will be our last this evening, and I do hope it serves as a grand enough finale for you all.”

As Mabel continued engaging the crowd, Dipper’s cold, steady voice slid over his exuberant twin’s as he hissed more detailed instructions to Gideon, covering his microphone with his left hand. A small smile was plastered on his face as he leaned slightly to the side, adjusting for Gideon’s height. “Listen closely, because I don’t have time to repeat this and if you screw up you’re going to get very, very hurt.”

Gideon stiffened. “I think I’ll just leave then, thank you.”

“Calm down.” Dipper wrapped an arm around Gideon’s shoulder, and despite the lack of physical force, Gideon found himself rooted to the stage. Damn magic. “If you do what I say, you’ll be just fine and no one will be the wiser.”

Gideon couldn’t help thinking that Dipper wasn’t very good at helping people relax.

“All Mabel needs you to do is stand still. Little shakes or tremors are fine, but you should hold your current position and try not to shift your weight too much. Since you seem so worried, I’ll give you a little advice, _kid_. Focus on something soothing.” His soft voice was scathing. “Try a stuffed animal.”

Mabel finished with her speech and turned her head away from the audience. Dipper looked up and made eye contact with his twin. They both exchanged a nod, and Dipper’s arm fell off of Gideon’s shoulder. He straightened up, sauntering forward on the stage until he was even with his twin, and raised his soft voice enough for the microphone to catch it. “While my part in our performance tonight has played out, my sister Mabel has one surprise left for you, and will be assisted by our worthy volunteer, Gideon Gleeful.”

A round of applause floated towards Gideon’s ears, echoing slightly. Dipper raised his hands, and a hush fell over the crowd as the same blue fire from before flickered to life at his fingertips and began running up the length of his arms. Gideon fell under the same silent spell as the crowd, searching Dipper for any tells of an illusion.  After briefly inspecting the left arm, however, Gideon’s concentration was broken as the fire leapt from Dipper’s arms to the ground just below Gideon’s feet as Dipper pointed one willowy finger.

Gideon stifled a shout and forced his muscles to freeze in place, remembering Dipper’s prior instructions. Anger at the twins sparked in his gut; this wasn’t the kind of thing you do to people without a warning! After overcoming his initial shock at the fire that now began to creep up his legs at Mabel’s command, Gideon looked up to give Dipper a spiteful gaze, but the younger twin had disappeared, leaving behind a slight cloud of smoke and his older sibling, who now came from the front of the stage to stand behind Gideon.

Mabel Pines flashed a dazzling smile at her audience, strong hands resting on Gideon’s shoulders. The blue fire made a large leap from Gideon’s legs to his chest, and the audience responded in kind. Gideon resentfully ignored the pressure from Mabel’s hands, and instead focused on the sensation of fire crawling up his body. It wasn’t hot, but it wasn’t cold either. There was a definite presence, but it felt more like a damp washcloth than flames. Curiosity winning out, he lifted an arm to try and inspect the flames in more depth, but as soon as hand deviated from its original position at his side, the damp washcloth feeling was struck down by a searing pain. Gideon cried out and attempted to look back at Mabel, but both actions were stopped by the psychic girl before he could carry them out. Her magic felt heavy and sweet on his lips.

Mabel clicked her tongue in irritation, still beaming for the crowd. Gideon opened his lips to query Mabel about the fake flames suddenly turning real, but her magic was jell-O on his lips again, jell-O with motivations and muscle that silenced him and pulled the corners of his mouth into a smile. The audience, a singular organism as Gideon now saw from the stage, responded with shouts of encouragement and a few claps here and there.

 _I told you not to move, didn’t I?_ A foreign but familiar voice intruded on Gideon’s consciousness. Despite a lack of pitch or identity, Gideon could still discern a definite masculine quality, and the bemused tone had traces of Dipper Pines. Just as the Tent of Telepathy stunk of a dark secret, the disembodied voice smelled like the younger component of the telepathic twins.

_What’s this about a smelly tent? Perhaps you should focus more on remaining still than the particular...odors of our magic._

Gideon snorted, his mind wandering and picturing Dipper behind stage, eyes closed in concentration as he sent telepathic messages into Gideon’s brain. Another burst of searing pain brought Gideon back to his role as a volunteer bonfire. Damn it. He had a habit of jittering his leg when he was thinking.

“ _Time for the finish, folks._ ” Dipper’s voice and Mabel Pines spoke in unison, their complementary timbres resounding inside and out of Gideon’s head.

Mabel’s hands reached from behind Gideon, fingers waving flirtatiously, encouraging the flames to jump from Gideon’s chest to his eye level. As Gideon maintained his precarious but immobile position, the fire crept up his neck. Although the searing pain didn’t return, the air around Gideon became warm and stuffy, and it seemed like his lungs weren’t pulling in any oxygen. Mabel’s hands darted upwards sharply, pulling the flames with them, and as a mask of blue fire covered his face, the last thing Gideon saw before he blacked out was Mabel Pine’s perfectly manicured and blue-polished index finger.

 


	2. surface tension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end of this chapter introduces the other pov that will be used in this story! im flighty and can't write from a consistent pov i'm sorry

Voices pounded cotton balls of static into his inner ear, and Gideon was glad he was lying on concrete. The coolness was soothing, and hopefully would help stave off an impending headache.

“Mabel, I don’t have the time to deal with this. You made a mess on stage, and now I have to clean it up.”

The voices sent an electric panic through him. Mess on stage? He had been on stage. Dear God, please let him not be the source of the mess…Visions of his blood and guts on stage were interrupted by Mabel’s chipper reply.

“Don’t worry, bro-bro! When it comes to cleaning up messes, you’re the best! Just go out there and charm 'em!"

A pained sigh pushed on the static in Gideon’s ears, and then there was a pointed pressure on his chest. The clack of boots against concrete, the swish of velvet behind his head, and soon there was only one voice left with Gideon.

“You were pretty cute on stage, Gleeful.” The point dug further into his chest, and Gideon’s eyes flew open as he gasped for breath. His gaze wheeled around the room, resting on the flushed face of Mabel Pines. Her hair curled in wisps around her temples and cheekbones, glowy and pink. There was the slightest glimmer of sweat at her forehead, and some of her mascara had smudged onto her lower lash line, but all Gideon could think was that she was enchanting, even while her high heel threatened to puncture a hole in his left lung.

He began to say something, probably along the lines of _what the hell are you doing please could you get your foot off my chest right now this instant_ but all that came out was a terrible wheezing noise, and despite the situation, Gideon couldn’t help but feel embarrassed.

Mabel sighed and removed her heel from his chest, falling backwards into a white plastic chair that spun when she threw her weight in it. Her back was towards him, and as she cleaned up her lower lashes and reapplied her mascara, Gideon took the time to cough and hack until he had his breath back. Slowly sitting up, _Lord does his heart feel like it’s going to burst out of his chest_ , he cautiously tested his vocal chords.

“Where’s your brother?” His voice, although raspier than a seventy-year old smoker’s, was audible. Admittedly, it wasn’t the most insightful question, but Gideon needed to start somewhere if he was going to make sense of the mess he was dragged into.

The mascara wand froze for a second. Hastily, Mabel laughed and continued applying her cosmetics, trading her tube of mascara for a pressed powder compact. “You’ve got a beautiful girl in a short dress all alone in a room, and the first thing you ask about is my brother? Typical.”

Although her tone was light, Gideon’s nose for the deeper-darker told him something stale was brewing under Mabel’s melodic voice, and he took back his previous thought on starting places. This was certainly as good a place to start as any. His investigation was finally gaining some ground, even if it had taken being kidnapped by the Pines themselves to get there.

“If you’re really such a worry-wart over my doofus brother,” Mabel said as she dabbed at an oily spot on the bridge of her nose, “he’s back on stage, explaining why you passed out. Apparently the audience was all worked up in a frizzle frazzle."

The flames came back to Gideon in a rush, and the conflicting damp washcloth and searing pain sensations were equally as vivid. So that was the mess--not a literal mess of blood and guts, as he had feared, but a confused and frightened audience. “I passed out because you almost killed me!”

Mabel snapped the compact shut, and it made a satisfying tap as she set it back on the vanity. The white plastic chair twirled around until Gideon could see the Pines girl’s face, make-up touched-up but no more lovely than before. She crossed her legs and rested one elbow on her knee, and her chin on her hand.

“That’s true,” she conceded. “But it wasn’t the magic that would’ve killed you, birdbrain. It was simply because you’re human.”

Gideon snorted. “Well, I apologize for that.”

Mabel smiled, a tiny quirk of the lips that was more genuine than any beam Gideon had seen so far. A tiny flame of his own sparked in his gut, quiet and invisible. “Silly,” she said, “you couldn’t help it. The flames sucked out all the oxygen and there was none left for you to breathe.” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Didn't matter whether it was you, some other dummy, or even me or Dipper. All human, all need air to breathe."

Again, Gideon’s nose smelled something strange. His deeper-darker senses were screaming at him, waving hands in front of his face, desperately trying to get his attention. It was surprisingly difficult when Mabel Pines was standing in front of him.

“You didn’t just accidentally pass out, though,” she said, and Gideon thought that this really wasn’t the time to notice how her breath smelled like nutmeg and maple syrup. “Dipper may not approve of my methods, but hey, we’re co-captains. I get to make 50% of the decisions, and I decided that you weren’t showing up to all our performances just 'cuz you _love_ twins in matching outfits doing magic tricks.”

She hooked a finger into his shirt collar, staring down at him with such intensity Gideon wondered if she was reading his mind. “So tell me, Gideon Gleeful, why are you such a frequent visitor?”

Gideon took a step back, sneakers squeaking on the concrete floor. “I just really like magic!” His palms started to sweat, and he rubbed them hastily on his shorts.

Mabel tsked with her tongue, shaking her head slightly. “Liar liar, pants on fire.”

“No, it’s true! I’m a huge magic fan. I watch all the how-to videos on card tricks and escape tricks and y’all are really gifted! I can never quite figure out the secrets behind your tricks, so I just keep coming to the shows…” Gideon trailed off, a blush creeping across his cheeks as he realized he had let some of his southern accent slip into his nervous speech.

Mabel tapped her finger on her chin a few times, but her effort to remain impartial was shattered when a small smile began to spread across her face, splitting her lips in a charming expression.

“I still think you’re a big liar,” she said, “but I can’t pressure you when you’re all nervous and talking with that accent.” The small smile rapidly gave way to a grin. “You’re cute when you’re nervous!”

Gideon looked down at the floor, relieved and nervous for an entirely different reason. His palms had become entirely slicked with sweat, and he rubbed them on his shorts again. “Thank you,” he said, not entirely sure what an appropriate response in his current situation was.

“The Summerween party,” Mabel said, abruptly but confidently. “In two weeks, at our house. You should come. We’ll have a good time.”

Gideon felt something stir in his stomach, but quieted it. “Yes, ma’am.”

Mabel smiled, and Gideon mentally reprimanded himself. He wasn’t going for Mabel Pines, he was going because it was a chance to investigate the Pines’ home, see if there was any creepy magic-y stuff lying around. Just business, nothing personal. It wasn’t personal at all-

Mabel’s lips interrupted Gideon’s internal monologue. They pressed against his, soft and sweet and slightly sticky, and although it was pleasant, Gideon felt like he was falling into a dark hole. This wasn’t the way he had pictured this evening at all.

Gideon Gleeful left fifteen minutes later, after Dipper walked back behind the stage and found his twin sister kissing Gideon, freshly retouched lip gloss and all. The face of Dipper Pines was still etched deeply into Gideon’s mind as he walked home under a brilliantly starry night sky. The emotionless eyes, perfectly balanced lips, and those level eyebrows...his expression  was so impossibly neutral that Gideon felt he was looking at some hyper realistic doll rather than a human face. It was mildly terrifying to say the least, and Gideon doubted Mabel's earlier declaration that both her and her brother were human. Mabel Pines seemed normal enough, accounting for her strange occupation. But despite the fact that they were twins, Mabel and Dipper were opposite ends of the spectrum. Gideon wondered if Dipper truly was as blank and emotionless as he projected, or if it was all a farce. His demeanor on stage was subdued, full of vague half smiles and tight, controlled gestures. From a seat in the audience, it seemed he was merely reserved, but from Gideon's time on stage next to the boy, even the half smiles felt forced and unnatural.

Maybe Dipper had sold his soul to some preternatural creature...After Gideon’s experience as a ‘volunteer’ for the Pines Twins’ show, he felt it was entirely possible.

More possible than him sharing a room with his cousin for the remainder of the summer, which his Pa had informed him of merely two days ago. Pacifica Northwest, Gideon’s supposed cousin, was set to arrive in town tomorrow. Gideon sighed, opening the door to the Mystery Shack and making his way through the house to his upstairs room. Kicking a few papers and popsicle sticks out his way, he collapsed in his bed, rehashing his encounter with the Pines before falling asleep, sneakers and hat still on.

+++

Mabel Pines was sixteen, beautiful, and utterly at odds with her twin brother. She sat millimeters from him, listening to the quiet crinkle of each page he turned as he leafed through the Journal. He was completely silent and still save each precise page turn. His shoulders were square, back straight, chin angled slightly downward, and eyes trained on the book. He was the definition of ‘studious’.

Mabel wanted to slap him. Better yet, slap the book out of his hands. She felt her right hand twitch and glanced sharply down at it, mentally scolding it. As satisfying as that moment would be, slapping the book away would only be a moment, and the long stretch of time after it certainly would not be as satisfying. Dipper would retaliate, most likely by rubbing his adoring fans in her face or, worse, upstaging her during one of their shows. The little punishments he gave her were tolerable. Introducing her on stage as if she were his assistant, refusing to show any emotion and keeping everything about himself clean were all irritating habits, frustrating only because Mabel knew Dipper was doing them on purpose. Still, she could stand them for at least one more day as long as she avoided embarrassment in front of an audience. That certainly wouldn’t help her summer romance plans.

“Speaking of summer romance plans, is that why you were draped all over that Gleeful kid?” His flat voice cut through the rhythm of the paper crinkles.

Mabel grit her teeth. “At least look at me when you’re talking to me, bro. Can’t you take your eyes off that journal for ten seconds?”

Dipper continued to stare down at the journal, accentuating his gaze with a page turn. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Mabel stood up, brushing the back of her skirt down. “And you keep reading my mind even after I asked you not to.”

Mabel heard the journal close behind her with a dull thud. Even though she wasn’t facing her brother, she could still visualize the neat fold of his hands on top of the book. He had been this way for so long, Mabel was starting to think of his behavior as _normal_ …

“I’m sorry, sister,” he said plainly, and Mabel wasn’t surprised at the lack of remorse in his voice. “It just comes so easily, almost naturally.”

Mabel walked out of the living room, shut the door behind her, and ran up the stairs to her bedroom.


	3. rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gideon doubts, paz nests, the forest keeps secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love paz (also thanks to those who have read & or left kudos!! really cool :-)

Gideon sat at the kitchen table, fork and knife each in a hand and plate of pancakes on the old oak table in front of him. The scent of maple syrup wafted from the hot stack, but he didn’t even twitch towards his breakfast. Instead, he stared at the occupant of the seat across the table, who cut her own stack into small bites and ate the pieces in multiples of three.

Gideon glanced from his cousin to his pa, who was busy tending a pan of sizzling bacon. After thirty seconds of attempting to sending telepathic messages to Bud Gleeful, who never once responded, Gideon gave in and turned back towards his cousin.

“So you’re Pacifica?” he asked, beginning to cut into his rapidly cooling pancakes.

She grimaced on a forkful of pancake, swallowing a huge lump of breakfast food before replying. “Paz, actually. I don’t really like Pacifica.”

Gideon nodded slowly. “So, Paz, then.”

Pacifica nodded back, and the two stared at each other for a few seconds before each turned their gaze down to their respective plates.

As Gideon chewed, Pacifica took a drink of orange juice. She dabbed at her mouth with a paper napkin, then looked at Gideon with hazel eyes from under a thick layer of blonde fringe. “And you’re Gideon, right?”

Gideon smiled with a mouth full of food, taking a swig of milk to wash down the pancake. “Yep.”

Pacifica nodded again, this time to herself more than anyone. “And we’re sharing a room for the rest of the summer?,” she asked, sounding more disbelieving than curious.

Bud cut in, sliding a few pieces of bacon on Pacifica’s plate. “That’s correct, Miss Pacifica,” he said happily, moving from her plate to Gideon’s.

“Isn’t that going to be, uh, inconvenient?” Gideon asked tersely, holding up his plate for Bud, who in turn slid the rest of the bacon onto the plate.

“Now, Gideon, try to be a bit more welcoming! I’m sure Pacifica here won’t be a bother for you.”

Gideon flushed, glancing over at his cousin before trying to amend his question. “That’s not what I meant, Pa! For Pacifica--I mean, Paz! Wouldn’t it be inconvenient for her?”

“And really awkward?” Pacifica chimed in, nose wrinkled. “Not that I’m not grateful, but, like, Gideon’s a boy and I’m a girl and we’re not exactly little kids…”

Bud waved a hand, shushing them both. “I understand it might be a little strange at first, but I’m sure you two will get used to it quicker than you know. Besides,” he added, looking at Pacifica, “there’s really no other rooms for you to stay in, darlin’.”

After their plates were clean and stomachs full, Gideon and Pacifica found themselves in the upstairs attic room, which Gideon used to think of as _his_ room but was now _their_ room. Quicker than Gideon had taken off his shoes and stolen the Journal from his secret hiding spot, Pacifica had decorated what Bud had declared her side of the room. Where Gideon’s desk and popsicle stick replica of Gravity Falls had once stood was now occupied by christmas lights strung from the ceiling, providing overhead light to a small bed covered in plush pillows and a pink embroidered quilt. The cheery christmas lights dispelled the musty attic atmosphere, and Gideon wasn’t sure whether he liked it better this way or not.

Pacifica, however, seemed to have no qualms about the way her side of the room was decorated. She sat on the edge of her bed, running her hands over the bumps of her quilt and staring up at the twinkling lights. Gideon could see the pride in her eyes, but even if he was too blinded by the lights he still would’ve known that Pacifica was incredibly pleased; she had been announcing it every five minutes.

“Wow, this actually looks, like, really amazing.” She declared, picking up a pearly throw pillow and admiring it. “I mean, most of it is just stuff from my room back home, but it somehow looks like way better in this attic? Sort of vintage.” Pacifica set the pillow down and looked at Gideon. “Don’t ya think?”

Gideon glanced over, searching for a quick detail to use as a reply. “Uh, yeah,” he stalled, trying to choose a throw pillow, “that purple pillow is delightful.”

The purple pillow flew across the room in response, knocking the Journal out of Gideon’s hands. “Even more delightful up close?” Pacifica asked, and Gideon rolled his eyes, tossing the pillow back over to his cousin.

“I think I liked it better from a distance,” he said, picking the Journal up off his bed and smoothing out one of the crinkled corners. “It was much more delightful when it wasn’t interrupting my research.”

Pacifica leapt down from her bed, pulling up the waistband of her denim shorts as she did so. “Research?” she asked skeptically, holographic bracelets flashing as she put her hands on her hips. “But it’s summer!”

“That’s exactly why I’m researchin’,” Gideon replied, excitement creeping into his voice. “This is an ongoing project, y’see, entering its fourth year.”

“That’s a long time.” Pacifica walked over to Gideon’s side of the room and leaned against his bed, peering over his shoulder to look at the Journal’s contents. Gideon paged through the Journal, showing her the different species it recorded. “Ghosts, Gnomes, and Gremlob-whats? This seems ridiculous.”

“It’s all true,” Gideon insisted, turning back to the page he had been reading before his cousin joined him. “I’ve seen some of these beasts myself, actually.”

“Shut up!”

“I can prove it,” Gideon flipped to one of the more worn pages, turning the Journal towards Pacifica’s gaze. “I’ve used these before! They’re pretty deep in the forest, though.”

Pacifica narrowed her eyes, skimming the page. “Crystals that can control the size of stuff? Yeah, right.”

“For heaven’s sake, what will it take to convince you?” Gideon snapped the Journal shut, but dog-eared the page with the crystals.

Pacifica smiled, brushing a piece of blonde hair behind her ear. “I was hoping you’d ask that.”

The forest surrounded them, sunlight streaming through the branches of pines and oaks, maples and firs. Despite Pacifica’s initial hesitation at the dense foliage in their path, Gideon found that he was often the one falling behind. Eventually they fell into a natural rhythm, with Pacifica clearing branches and calling out whenever there was a fallen log or other obstacle in their path, and Gideon adjusting their direction every so often, comparing the Journal’s description to their surroundings.

Three hours in, Gideon felt they were close, but the pair had gotten a little lost and Pacifica was not pleased.

“I thought you said that your book had directions!” She swatted at a bug flying near her nose.

“Not directions,” Gideon corrected, smoothing his thumb over a corner of the Journal. “More like clues.”

“Great,” Pacifica groaned, pushing up the sleeves of her purple windbreaker. The crinkling of the coat sounded like cellophane, and Gideon suddenly realized how hungry he was. “Look,” Pacifica exclaimed, pointing at a clearing behind Gideon. “Your book said that those crystals glow, right? Doesn’t it look brighter over there?”

“Yeah, they should have a pink or blue glow,” Gideon confirmed, paraphrasing from the Journal’s entry.

“Well, it looks blue enough to me.” Pacifica brushed past Gideon, windbreaker crinkling again. Gideon let her pass him, and started to follow. The blue glow was compelling, and after three hours of trekking through the dense brush of Oregon forest, Gideon was willing to take almost any lead. As he neared closer to the source of the light however, a tingling sensation travelled up his spine, reminding Gideon of the wives’ tale about footsteps on graves. He grabbed his cousin’s shoulder, and she turned towards him, mouth open wide, but Pacifica remained silent when she saw Gideon’s finger resting on his lips and the worried slant to his eyebrows.

Gideon crouched down behind a thicker patch of brush, and Pacifica followed suit. There was a tap on Gideon’s shoulder, and he looked over to find his cousin’s nose scrunched and eyebrows raised. Gideon shook his head, still not sure why exactly something felt so wrong. Pacifica rolled her eyes but stayed at his side, both of them peering through the branches to try and get a better look at the blue glow.

The light was stronger now, and Gideon felt even more sure that this wasn’t coming from the crystals. As if he needed further proof, a flash of heat darted up Gideon’s right arm, and the air thinned. Gideon hissed, clutching his right arm in his left. Gideon looked over at his cousin, still wincing, to find that Pacifica was staring ahead, through the brush. The blue light bathed her face in shades of violet and aquamarine, eery and unsettling to Gideon even through the invisible fire that was currently licking at his arm.

He traced his cousin’s gaze to the source of the unnatural light, a dark, but entirely too familiar figure. After four years of watching that figure on stage, Gideon would recognize its silhouette in a heartbeat.

A cool touch soothed Gideon’s burning hand, and a whisper tickled his ear. “Who is that?”

Gideon watched the figure, bathed in the blue light that almost seemed to be a roaring fire consuming its only fuel source, the tall and lean body at its center. Looking over at his cousin, whose hazel eyes now gleamed royal blue, Gideon felt particularly small. Kissing Mabel he had felt like he was falling into a black hole. This was something else entirely, though.

“That’s one of the subjects I’ve been researching,” Gideon said, watching Pacifica’s jaw drop as she heard him, but continued to stare into the blue light. “Dipper Pines.”

Gideon was immensely grateful that he had a roommate, because his case had just become much more difficult. As another wave of pain washed through his arm, Gideon realized that unlike his twin, Dipper didn’t give the impression of falling. Quite the opposite, Gideon imagined himself strapped to a rocketship hurdling towards the sun, holding onto his only companion’s hand for dear life. As Pacifica scooted closer to Gideon, he thought it was safe to assume his cousin felt the same way.

 


	4. light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some paz and gid, some mabes and dip

"Case of the Telepathic Twins. Entry #117, recorded June 9th but observed June 8th, around 1pm. Year 4. Subject--"

Gideon's newest log was interrupted by his cousin, who snatched the tape recorder from his hands and began talking at a rapid pace.

"Subject is the freaking magical blue light that like surrounded this kind of cute guy we saw when we were looking for some shrinky dink crystals in the middle of the forest!"

Gideon groaned, attempting to take back the tape recorder, but Pacifica held it out of his reach. "Subject is Dipper Pines, not a 'kind of cute guy'!" He protested, attempting to take back the recorder again, and failing.

"Whatever," Pacifica replied with a wave of her hand. She brought the tape recorder back in front of her mouth. "I am now being informed by my assistant that the subject's name is Dipper Pines." Ignoring Gideon's outcry at 'assistant', Pacifica continued to hold the record button. "Kind of a weird name, but I guess it doesn't matter too much, really..."

Finally, Gideon was able to take back control of the log entry. "Gonna be erasing all of that," he muttered, shooting Pacifica a dark look which she easily brushed off.

"It's more interesting this way," she remarked, not looking the least bit remorseful.

Gideon sighed. "Entry will be continued later, when I find a way to record my observations in privacy and without interruption." He set the tape recorder on a shelf by above his bed, adjusting a few paranormal books that sat on the shelf next to it.

"So when are we gonna do this again?"

Gideon turned to face his cousin, inwardly sighing at her earnest expression, which despite Pacifica's best efforts to seem casual, still was painfully obvious.

"I'm not sure, actually. I don't really have any plans right now."

Pacifica rolled off of Gideon's bed, slowly trudging over to her side of the room. "Well, when you decide you're ready to keep stalking this guy, let me know."

"It's not stalking! It's a serious investigation."

“Mm’kay, Gid,” Pacifica tossed her doubt over her shoulder to her cousin as she exited the room, her green fringe bag bouncing at her hip. “I’m going into town!” she shouted, receiving a muffled ‘kay’ from Gideon and a slightly more exuberant response from Bud.

Mabel woke to the sound of the front door slamming shut and an angry march of footsteps up the stairs, louder with each step. As Mabel sleepily opened her eyes, she caught a glimpse of her brother rushing past her open door, most likely to his room. His shoes left a trail of mud on the floor of the hallway, and Mabel realized that Dipper not only had gone out without telling her, but had also been in the forest. The fact that her twin had left the house without giving prior notice of his destination yet again nagged at Mabel, shaking off the last bits of sleepiness. Even though they had barely talked for months now, and were miles apart from the bond they had shared as kids, there was still a certain level of courtesy that they had used around each other. Leaving notes or telling the other where and why they were leaving the house was just one of those things.

She thought about asking her brother about it, but ultimately decided it wasn’t worth the trouble, considering the most probable result. Dipper would shrug it off, deflecting her question with a vague answer and another question.

Mabel rolled onto her side, brushing a few stray hairs out of her eyes. Normally she would have been up by seven, and probably would already have gone for a morning jog and showered by eight, but at two in the afternoon, all she felt possible was lying in bed. Without a show to perform, or friends to meet, Mabel's motivation had been zapped. Throw in relationship issues with a brother that used to be glued to her side, and Mabel was ready for a day in bed. She could probably get the maid to bring her some breakfast.

Following her initial plan of action, Mabel sat up, reaching over to her nightstand to press the button on the intercom. After a quick request for fruit and a donut, she pulled her blankets up closer to her chest, piled all her pillows behind her head, and dove into the novel that had been sitting unperturbed on her nightstand for a week. She had found it during one of her rare excursions with her brother. They had walked five miles into town to the bookstore, Mabel in shorts and a crewneck, and Dipper in jogging pants and a relaxed t-shirt, rare in his wardrobe. He had complained about his new running shoes, and she had reminded him of the state of his old ones, and he had complained again about how she always had to be right. They had talked about nothing the whole way, joking and laughing. Flipping to the very end of the book, _we can never go back_ , Mabel found the receipt tucked into the back page. That was four months ago, and thinking back, Mabel remembered that day, the one spectacularly warm day in March.

Mabel reached out her arm to set the book back on her nightstand, but it slipped out of her grasp as she startled at the sparkling sound of glass breaking, followed by a furious barrage of foul language in Dipper’s voice. Mabel threw her legs over the side of her bed, wrestling her pink down comforter away as she dashed out of her door. Reaching the hallway, her bare feet slid into the cold mud left behind by her brother’s shoes. Following the cold, wet footsteps to her brother’s bedroom, Mabel paused at the door, which normally would be locked tight, but was now open just a crack. She couldn’t hear anymore cursing, and the silence bothered her more than the vulgar words had. Thinking of magic gone wrong, Mabel pushed her brother’s door open and took a step inside, looking towards the window where Dipper normally sat and read through the Journal. It sat there in the afternoon light, gold foil and six-fingered hand glinting in the sun, but it was alone.

A different sort of light caught Mabel’s eye, the silver reflection of a piece of glass. Mabel’s gaze flicked to the flash, and she was blinded by the silver beam of an assemblage of glass shards. Blinking away the bursts of color from her seared cornea, Mabel found Dipper in the middle of the wreckage, blood dripping from his left hand, staining the powder of tiny glass fragments covering his knuckles.

“Dipper?” Mabel carefully took a step towards him, staring down at the ground to try and avoid embedding glass in her bare feet. A trail of fire leapt to life in a barrier in front of her feet, preventing Mabel from advancing and leading her gaze back to her brother, who still knelt on the floor but had turned his attention from his bleeding hand to his twin sister. Mabel glanced at the mirror that hung on Dipper’s wall, but there was nothing but an empty frame and a few remaining glass pieces to glance at.

“Dipper,” Mabel said quietly, staring into her brother’s eyes, “what’s going on?”

For a second, Mabel thought she was going to get an actual explanation, with no white lies and no ‘irrelevant’ omissions. Her brother returned her gaze, brown eyes confused but honest with no trace of magic, and the trail of fire disappeared along with the distance between them. But as soon as Mabel’s fingers brushed against her brother’s wound, starting to inspect the damage, he pulled away, brown eyes fading into blue as the air started to crack with his magic.

“Everything’s fine,” he said, and it was a dismissal. He pushed his good hand against the carpet, trying to stand, but his palm caught the sharp side of a piece of glass, and he fell back onto the floor, hissing in pain. Mabel reached out to help him stand, to take the piece of glass out of his palm, to bandage his bleeding and glass powdered knuckles, to fix whatever had gone wrong between them, but blue fire consumed Dipper’s right hand as he held it out as a warning. Teeth clenched, he met Mabel’s gaze.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Dipper, you’re bleeding. Don’t be ridiculous, you probably need stitches or something, just let me--”

The flames roared, bursting to life in Dipper’s left hand as well. Mabel watched in horror as the magic fire heated the blood slipping through her brother’s fingers, and listened as it began to sizzle.

“Just get out, Mabel!” Dipper’s voice cracked slightly as he shouted, something that Mabel would have teased him endlessly about four months ago, but instead she just found herself more scared. At least when her brother had been stoic and emotionless it had seemed like he had everything under control, whatever he was doing. Now, Mabel felt like her twin was starting to crack. She slowly backed out of her brother’s room, unable to tear her gaze away from the scene.

The ghostly blue fire flickered, sending ominous shadows across her brother’s face, which was distorted in a conjunction of pain, anger, and desperation. Mabel stopped as the door frame pushed against her back. She stood there, watching her brother’s blood drip to the floor and remembering when she would’ve started cleaning his cuts and tending to his injuries without a moment’s hesitation. The desire to go back to that kind of relationship with her brother was so strong that the emotion lit her eyes in powder blue and travelled from her to Dipper, extinguishing the flames wrapped around his hands. He stared at her with no readable emotion except for shock.

Mabel clapped her hands over her mouth. It had been a long time since she had used magic involuntarily, but of course that problem had to resurface at a time like this. She barely had time to throw a hasty apology at her brother before hastily retreating back to her bedroom.

As soon as her feet crossed over from the hallway to the plush carpet of her bedroom, Mabel threw the door shut behind her. It made a satisfying boom as it slammed shut, just like the loud stomping of Mabel’s feet as she ran across the plush carpet to her bed. Pulling her blankets over her, Mabel stopped when they covered everything but her head. She could pull them all the way over her head, disappearing under a soft shield of cotton into one of the escape realities she had played with as a little girl, or she could let them rest just over her chest, be a mature sort of young woman like she was on stage, and think about her situation and problems rationally and with a touch of wry humour from the comfort of her bed.

Without a second thought, Mabel snatched her phone and earbuds and pulled the covers over her head. Putting her earbuds in, Mabel scrolled through a list of pop and dance songs before finally giving up and putting her music on shuffle. From outside of her cover of soft down blankets, Mabel thought she heard her brother’s voice again.

“--doing this anymore. The deal is off, okay? Now--”

Mabel turned up the volume. She could question Dipper more tomorrow, when she had the motivation to do more than lay in bed all day.

 


	5. rabbit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> run, rabbit, run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its_short.jpg

_Blood is sticky and red on her hands. Mabel finds this a surprise, seeing as she's had a little experience with blood in the past and she does not remember it being this sticky. It coats her hands in a thick gloss, and the blood from her hands runs down the leg of the dead rabbit she's holding with a firm grasp. It's fur is matted with the red, and the tufts of tawny hair clump together horrendously. Her hands move quickly, with haste and excitement. As the rabbit comes into the center of her vision, Mabel feels bile bite the back of her throat--the blood on her hands has come from the rabbit's neck, which has been hacked open to expose the arteries, as well as its trachea and spinal column._

The nausea that burned the pit of her stomach is enough to ground Mabel in reality, and her vision snapped back to her bedroom, where she was swaddled in a mess of sheets and blankets, all of which clung to the cooling sweat on her back. Her hands were damp as well, and Mabel struggled to pull them out of the cocoon of blankets. The panic that spiked through her veins settled when there was no sticky blood coating her palms, just sweat. Taking a shaky but deep breath, Mabel wrestled her way out of the swath of blankets, rolled out of her bed, and made her way over to the windows. The angry red glow of her alarm clock told her that she hadn't slept through the entire day, just the better part of the afternoon. Pulling up the blinds and turning the crank to open up the set of three glass panes, Mabel rested her arms on the sill. The summer air was thick and hazy, and Mabel remembered the exact same oppressing heat from a number of summers ago. As soon as Mabel drifted back into Memory Land, of which Mabel was queen and solo acting ruler, it wasn't hard to find herself among glades of nostalgia and tide pools of regret.

When her and Dipper were younger, her thoughts were his thoughts and his thoughts were her thoughts. Although not as strong, their psychic abilities had been with them since birth, and for the first twelve years of life there had been a constant channel between them. They were almost always by each other's side, so then they used it only for communicating the things they didn't want others to hear, but in the few instances where they had been separated--Mabel's ill fated Girl Scout trip, for example--it was an instantaneous messaging system that conveyed emotions, images, and attitudes along with words. The two hadn't experimented much with it and had really taken it for granted, Mabel realizes now, but there had been a few times when the communication had evolved into something they called hitchhiking, turning one of the twins into a passive observer. Mabel thought back to her Girl Scout trip, the crowded, itchy feeling in the back of her mind, the way her brother's irritating had leaked into her own emotions, and then there was the incident with the camp counselor...wisely, after that trial, both twins had agreed that they would give up on hitchhiking.

So now, four years and four months of silence later, Mabel was stuck wondering why her brother had reopened that channel, and left stunned why he would have made her a hitchhiker. Admittedly, it wasn't like she had been forced to enter Dipper's mind, but when you're sleeping, entering an open door is as natural as dreaming. Mabel lifted her weight off of her elbows, which were now marked from the grooves of the window sill. Rubbing at the angry red marks, she gazed out the window, eyelids heavy in the thick evening air. Angling away from the window and towards her bed, Mabel stopped mid-step as a splash of red jumped out in her mind against the green lawn laid out in front of their house. Mabel pivoted to get a better look at the small red puddle, and even thought about grabbing the pair of glasses that had been prescribed to her in fourth grade, but ultimately ended up resigning to the reality that she would have to leave her room and investigate the red puddle in person.

    Slipping out of her pajamas and into the first acceptable outfit she pulled from her closet, Mabel steadied her gaze straight ahead, looking through her rack of clothes as if there was a pane of glass between her room and Dipper's, instead of a solid white wall. Straining her hearing, Mabel paused getting dressed in an effort to detect any motion from her brother's side of the wall. After a few minutes of silence, her arms began to ache from holding her sweater above her head, so she let it fall over her face and swiftly tugged it down over her chest. Its heavy warmth was comforting, especially since it seemed that Gravity Falls had encountered a rare cold spell during the middle of June. Realizing she had allied her train of thoughts to veer from its original tracks, Mabel made her way out of her room, down the stairs, and out the front door, which closed behind her with a click and a beep of the home security system.

    Once outside, Mabel was again grateful for her sweater, as a slight breeze rippled the front lawn and blew a few stray pieces of hair into her eyes. She brushed them out of her vision, clearing the way to the spots of blood. Mabel took a step forward, her slippers scraping against the porch. Squinting ahead, Mabel worked to better see the small, crumpled mass just beyond the spots of blood. Another gust of wind whipped through Mabel's hair as she walked towards the shape, remembering her phantom hands working in tandem with her brother's, the blank stare of the creature's dead eyes, the feeling of slick blood running between her fingers. As Mabel approached the mass, the spots of blood organized themselves around it, and Mabel's hazy memory fell on top of the scene before her as everything lined up. The small creature before her was the broken body of the rabbit which Mabel had felt dying in her grasp hours before, its blood coating her hands, running down her arms. Mabel took a step backwards, tripping as her heel caught on the ground. The blood spots she had seen from her window spread around the small animal, each small spill connecting to form the smooth curves of a single eye. As Mabel scrambled backwards, overwhelmed and numb to the gore before her, she felt a change in the grass under her. It felt softer, less brittle, and pushing against the ground to rise to her feet again, Mabel saw the sudden shift from bright, green blades to a patch of brown, dead grass surrounding the rabbit carcass. Stepping away from the bloody mess, Mable saw that the patch of dead grass was only around the dead rabbit, the edges of the patch equidistant from the center, forming a perfect equilateral triangle.

    As Mabel turned to go back inside, she swore its single bloody eye winked at her.

    The bookstore is a type of paradise, Pacifica thought as her fingertips ran along the carefully shelved row of books at her eye level. After walking into the heart of Gravity Falls 'downtown' area, Pacifica had stumbled into the closest building, looking for a restroom and a place to sit. As it had happened, the bookstore had provided both, with a friendly employee who greeted her from behind a cash register. Pacifica had smiled hastily before rushing to the ladies' room, but had made sure to greet the cashier more genuinely afterwards. Now, she found herself browsing through each aisle and shelf of books, reading the spines of books which offered titles ranging from _Organic Cooking_ to _The Seven Pillars of Magic_. Somehow both books seemed equally and perfectly appropriate for the small store, and the town itself. Pulling the magic book from the shelf, Pacifica let it fall open to a random page describing the properties of fungi found in the Pacific Northwest.

    "You know, I think that magic stuff is a bunch of bullcrap, but if you're into it, there's a pretty famous show right here in our town that a tourist like you might wanna see."

    Pacifica looked up at the cashier and closed the book hastily. "I wouldn't say I'm into magic," she started, but changed her course as she processed what the employee had said. "Wait, how did you know I'm just visiting?"

    The employee's narrow face split into a grin, her long, red hair falling in front of her face. "Gravity falls is pretty small, dude. I've lived here all my life and I know all the locals. I mean, I would've remembered someone as colorful as you."

    Pacifica blushed, not sure whether to be embarrassed or pleased, but before she had to decide whether to thank the red headed cashier or not, the girl had jumped the counter and was holding out a flyer to Pacifica. Two figures stood out against the pale blue paper, a boy and a girl wearing costumes of the same black and blue color scheme. Pacifica leaned in closer to the flyer, narrowing her eyes at the boy's printed image. A rather impressive cape flowed around him in the picture, but even with Pacifica's taste in eye catching clothes, the cape wasn't what had drawn her attention. Diverting her attention from the cape to the boy's face, Pacifica realized that the boy on the flyer was the same boy that her and Gideon had seen in the woods earlier that week. From his unnaturally bright blue eyes to the haughty expression, there was no doubt--this was Dipper Pines.

    Realizing that she had been staring intently at the flyer for a solid minute, Pacifica laughed nervously, taking the flyer from the cashier with a smile and a thank you.

    "No problem, man," the girl replied. "Feels kind of weird giving it to you, though. Up until a couple of months ago, I actually worked for these guys' competition, over at the Mystery Shack."

    Pacifica jumped slightly, two questions on the tip of her tongue. "You used to work at the Mystery Shack?" She asked the first, stretching her hand out to the red head. "I'm staying there right now! My uncle owns it," she explained as she shook hands with the cashier. "I'm Pacifica." She gave her best smile, the one she always used for meeting new people.

    The cashier smiled back, and as Pacifica met her warm gaze she could clearly see the swarm of tiny freckles that glossed over the bridge of her nose, scattering over her cheeks. She always liked freckles, wished she could have them. Breaking away from her new friend, Pacifica glanced down at the flyer once more as she walked towards the shop’s door.

Pacifica pushed the door open with her back, prompting a melodic jingle from the bell attached to the top.

“Hey, I’m Wendy, by the way!” The cashier called as Pacifica left. “Come back anytime!”


	6. level

Mabel slipped into a pair of flip flops, shuffling towards the front door with a glance upstairs before quietly leaving the house. Since Grunkle Stan had disappeared to god knows where a few days ago, only Mabel and Dipper were home. Now, as the door closed behind Mabel, she left Dipper alone in the big house.

It was a warm summer day, the kind that called for outdoor activity, but not quite hot enough for swimming or a pool party. Mabel was glad for this as she began to walk towards town, not quite sure where she would stop, but picturing a relaxing, quiet, secluded place. Maybe the corner cafe, or even the bookstore…

Gingerly stepping around the blood-stained grass and the rabbit carcass, which had now attracted a swarm of flies, Mabel quickened her pace, wanting to get off her family’s property as soon as possible. With the unexplained absence of Grunkle Stan, Dipper’s seemingly permanent ban on all things Mabel, the strain of maintaining her stage presence in front of everyone except her family, and the impending collision of all three of those stressors at the final Twins of Telepathy show tonight, Mabel needed an escape. Even if it could only be a couple hours long before donning her costume and fixing her hair and makeup.

The front lawn of her house fell behind her, but Mabel still couldn’t forget the limp rabbit, spread out on the grass. The sight of it dead on her lawn brought back the vision, of her watching through Dipper’s eyes as he slit the rabbit’s throat and let its bright, hot blood run down his wrist, just like the blood from the glass shards of his broken mirror had coursed out of his palm, dripping and traveling in small streams and tributaries.

Tribute. The pieces clicked together in Mabel’s head, forming a thought she doesn’t want to have, let alone associate it with her brother. She couldn’t rectify it, but it made too much sense to ignore, reminding Mabel of why she always hated logical things.

The magic was already laid out, all planned and double-checked and ready to go. She had seen it, a couple years ago, back when the twins’ magic show still needed an extra kick of something to attract new guests. She and Dipper had been searching through the Journal, through _his_ journal, for any new sparks of life to ignite their show. They had found exactly that, spells and incantations for summoning fire, which had ended up working mostly for Dipper’s benefit since Mabel didn’t care to memorize and practice the hundreds of verbal and mental cues suggested for safe practice of the magic. Alongside the flames, however, was a single page on blood magic, with red marker warnings covering more paper than the actual instructions on the magic.

Mabel remembered that hidden under the bold warnings were three definitive rules of blood magic, but as she walked past the welcome sign that marked the edge of Gravity Falls’ downtown area, she couldn’t remember any but the first; the desired effect of the magic should be weighted by the blood sacrifice. Smaller gains could be balanced by birds, or even a frog, but anything greater than a few visual tricks needed a much larger, more intricate sacrifice.

Mabel’s thoughts wandered back to the rabbit again, the way the blood hadn’t been collected for magic, but instead painted across the lawn in some sort of tribute. Mabel knew it had been Dipper, but if she hadn’t been inside his head when he did it, she never would’ve believed it. Dipper’s perfectionist streak and aversion to dirt and messes wasn’t just part of his stage persona. After glancing at the Journal’s instructions on blood magic, he had promptly shoved the book towards Mabel, telling her that if she wanted to finish reading about blood stains and dead animals, she could do it by herself.

The dirt road had given way to even cement a long time ago, but Mabel only took the time to wipe the dust off her feet when she reached the outside of the bookstore. Normally she wouldn’t jeopardize the credibility of the Telepathy Twins by wearing sweatpants and flip-flops into town, but she couldn’t bring herself to keep up the facade after Dipper’s recent ventures into dark _dark_ magic, and the only one ever at the Gravity Falls bookstore was the cashier, Wendy, who had seen through the bravado of Mabel and Dipper Pines four years ago.

Brushing the last streak of dust off of the heel of her right foot, Mabel turned towards the glass door, reaching out to pull it open, but interrupted as a tall, gangly body crashed into her own. The other body gasped loudly, but Mabel’s voice was cut off as an elbow knocked into her windpipe and a knee hit her in the gut. Her flip-flops couldn’t grip the smooth pavement of the sidewalk, and Mabel endured another crash as her own body fell to the ground.

Her ass met the pavement first, and although Mabel liked to think that part of her was pretty well cushioned, tears sprung to her eyes as her gluteus radiated with maximus pain. Lucky for her, though, the pain soon disappeared with Mabel’s vision as her head smacked against the sidewalk and everything went black.

_Mabel..._

She tried to move towards the voice, familiar and bittersweet. Her body didn't listen to her, and Mabel thinks of her arms and legs encased in cement.

_Mabel!_

It's him, she knows it's him. The only person who understood her for twelve years. Twelve whole years he knew her better than anyone else, could finish her sentences and read her mind. Twelve years, and then it all fell apart.

_Mabel!_

He calls her once more, urgent and pressing, but as Mabel reaches for him her vision is restored and the voice slips away with the darkness.

"Oh my god, are you okay? I'm so sorry! Oh gosh, you're bleeding! I'm sorry!" The high pitched voice strung with panic pierced Mabel's ears, at odds with her vision of fluffy clouds and blue sky. her thoughts were fuzzy, and as she tried to verbalize her strong opinion that she did not need any sort of help, the only thing that came out of her mouth was a low groan.

Unfortunately for Mabel, the high pitched voice didn't interpret her groan as a rejection of aid. "Holy shit, okay stay right there! I'm going to, uh, get help?"

The voice disappeared, and Mabel felt alone as she lay on the sidewalk, which despite being quite warm from soaking the sun's rays all morning, was understandably still as hard as concrete. The haze clouded her thoughts, and instead of the quick spiderweb of ideas and feelings that Mabel had to come to understand as her thought process, there was only a few floating clouds. Dipper was one fluffy cloud, but not current Dipper. No, fluffy cloud Dipper was twelve years old and finding the Journal for the first time, excitement highlighting his expression as he flipped through the pages with unabashed eagerness. Fluffy cloud Dipper found the page on gnomes, and dragged Mabel into the forest, searching for hours for tiny men.

"Okay, someone's here to help! You'll be okay! I'm so sorry again, oh my gosh-"

"Maybe you should go get Mabel a drink of water, Pacifica."

The low, sweet tones struck a chord that resonated with the clouds surrounding Mabel's thoughts, and fluffy cloud Dipper was shooed away. Mabel groaned again, but this time she was able to put the groan into a comprehensible word. "Wendy?"

Firm but gentle hands felt her pulse, brushed against her temple, examined her ribs. "You guessed it. Long time no see, Mabel."

"Are you still mad at me?"

Mabel felt the touch stiffen, a little jolt of the wrist, but that was the only indication Wendy gave that she had heard the question. She moved from Mabel’s temple down to her ribs, and Mabel cried out as a dull but strong pain diffused from her right side across her chest. Wendy’s hand fell away immediately.

“Ah, sorry, Mabel.”

The pain finally gave Mabel enough self-awareness to open her eyes, and she blinked a few times, her pupils struggling to adjust to the sudden flood of light. Wendy leaned over her, her red hair spilling out of a ponytail and in front of her face, catching the sun that shone like a halo, fanning out behind her head.

“S’okay,” Mabel slurred, looking past Wendy at the afternoon sky. “I’m okay.” She moved to sit up, pushing against the concrete sidewalk with her palms.

“Yo, Mabel, wait just a minute,” Wendy frowned, holding her hands in front of Mabel. “You fell pretty hard. Besides, Pacifica will be back any minute with some water.”

“No, I’m fine,” Mabel gave the ground an extra push, and, despite Wendy's continued protests, shakily rose from a crouch to a standing position. “Got places to be,” she said weakly, half-smiling at Wendy. Hesitant at first, Mabel walked past Wendy, who clapped her shoulder as she passed.

"Be careful, Mabel."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hah wow its been a long time....i did not realize how busy school and work would keep me. sorry about the very slow update. my life has been hectic lately! thanks for all the kudos, really means a lot :)


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